


a call to motion

by orphan_account



Category: Bon Appétit Test Kitchen (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Jelly Belly, Making Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 13:30:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22903120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Brad can't stand the look on her face.  Maybe he should kiss it off?
Relationships: Brad Leone/Claire Saffitz
Comments: 20
Kudos: 47





	a call to motion

**Author's Note:**

> Standard RPF rules apply. Keep it weird and keep it here y'all! Sharing this with those involved will cause me to die of embarrassment and then come back as a ghost who haunts your ass.

Brad doesn't know why he did it - only, Claire looked so miserable and exhausted that he kind of had to do something. It wasn't in him to let her wallow in her own frustration and self-doubt. Defeat cut a frown into her soft features - different than her usual Day Three misery, but familiar in a way that doesn’t sit right with him. Too much like her face when she'd left them before. Left them forever, he'd thought, and the memory of a kitchen totally devoid of Claire made him miserable too. 

Claire Saffitz, equal parts sweet and salty, bossy, whiny, brilliant, funny - banging her rolling pin on the dough and arguing that it's not just therapeutic, Brad, it's the proper technique. Claire, singularly focused, chewing the end of a sharpie while she googles gluten. Claire in a denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up, her hair a salt and pepper tangle. Claire muttering to herself "it's wrong, it's all wrong" and calling for him across the crowded kitchen to troubleshoot, to critique, to fix it, dammit. Claire in her holiday party dress, crush green velvet against the pale of her skin. Claire, blushing, when he hands her a drink and tells her "you clean up good, Half-Sour." Claire, flushed and frustrated with the pressure and the comments and the endless deluge of shitty snacks, with whole fucking concept of the show. Claire, wearing thin, leaving them, leaving _ him. _

_ Claire, Claire, Claire. _

The kitchen was never the same without her. Even now, when she wasn't there every day, Brad missed her. Missed tugging at her pigtails and cleaning up her messes. He missed the bright-eyed smile she reserved only for him. He even missed the way she rolled her eyes at him, her gaspy laugh, the particularly delighted and disgusted way she looked at him when he told her cheesy jokes.

And maybe that's part of why he did it. 

He'd tried everything else to bring a smile back to her face and failing his usual antics, kissing her seemed like the only remaining option. Maybe not the best option, but a shock to her system if nothing else, a diversion, just enough to get her amped up and ready to try again. 

And if he liked it too well… that was just a secondary benefit. Purely coincidental. Unrelated to his true intentions which were, of course, totally pure. 

Nothing to see here. 

Just two co-workers of half a decade, bent over their station at the end of a long, tough day. No cameras rolling, no noisy, nosy coworkers. Just Claire and Brad and the setting sun, a couple of silicone molds, and a comically stupid looking children's rock tumbler. 

Kissing. 

Sort of. 

Brad is kissing Claire at least, almost chastely, a hand gently under her chin and absolutely nowhere else - the thing in him that threatens to break and slide into her hair is being heavily and effectively managed by the other, much louder, thing in him that doesn’t want her to smack him and file some sort of totally justified complaint for overstepping in a major way. 

Claire doesn't move. 

Ten second drags out into ten hours and she's not kissing him back - but she's not pushing him away either. He pulls back, still cradling her face in his hands and jesus fucking christ her skin is so soft, he's scared he'd bruise her if he was anything but careful. 

Claire looks up at him through long lashes, eyes wide and so black, mouth a perfect, silent "oh". 

"Shit, sorry, Claire, I'll just -" He drops his hands, his gaze diverted. A massive fuck up, truly, brilliant move Brad. He's already mentally inventorying alternative job opportunities when she stops him in his tracks. Maybe in his next life he'll be a mailman -

"No!" Claire says, a too sharp whisper. She grabs hold of his wrist and wordlessly leads him out of the kitchen and into the conference room. She urges him to sit on a couch - her grip is firm, but her face is gentle. "Do it again."

"Whadda...umm...again?" Brad gapes at her, rubbing his knees nervously. He can't hold still at the best of times. 

She nods, leans in to Brad tentatively, nose to nose now but oddly shy. "Please," Claire barely breathes the word before something in him overflows. He slides his fingers into her hair, lips pressed firm against hers. He tugs hers into his lap, needs her closer, closer. 

Claire comes willingly, her hands on his chest and legs tucked tidily at his sides. She's so warm against him he can barely focus, settles huge hands on her waist. Now that he's touching her, he can't imagine why he waited so long. Soft, flushed, wonderful Claire. She feels better than he could have dreamed, her body warm under his hands.

Her small hands slide up his chest, his neck, settle on the scruff of his cheeks. He sees the wheels turning behind her eyes, sees her studying his reaction like she studies everything else, analyzing each sharp intake of breath, every millimeter of skin. Fingers trace the shape of his jaw, his bottom lip. He watches her smile at him, a subtle variation on the wide-eyed way she usually looks at him but deeper somehow, more intense than he can bear and her eyes flutter closed as she pulls him back into a kiss. Gentler now, tentative almost, he lets her take the lead, lets her pick him apart, slow and sweet and unbearably careful until she gets a little daring, flicks her tongue against the seam of his lips as if she's asking a question and gets an answer in the form of a groan he can't hold back. 

She kisses up the column of his throat, sucking at a sweet spot at the open neck of his flannel that makes him hiss and struggle not to rock up against her. His hands smooth over her jeans and he pulls her closer instead, moans in tandem with her at the raw heat and pressure between them. "Fuck, Claire, lemme.. ". 

His thought gets lost between breathes, but she seems to get where he's going with this, let's him tug her apron over her head and off, deposits it on the floor nearby. He gets distracted pressing openmouthed kisses to her neck and shoulder, swirls his tongue along the dip of her collarbone until she pushes him away to tug her sweater and the thin tank underneath over her head.

Brad takes her in, her little black bra, the small smattering of freckles leftover from a summer at the Cape, the gentle curve of her waist. She's so small next to him, but powerful in her own, inimitable way- she always has the upper hand just by being herself. He swallows heavily. "You're so…fuck, you're gorgeous."

Claire ducks her head and giggles, a little nervous. There's his girl, all blushy and bashful over compliments he knows she craves. He means them. He always means them. "Thanks Brad."

But some part of him feels hesitant. He looks around, the bright fluorescent lights suddenly jarring, the fabric of the couch suddenly scratchy.

"Claire," he presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth, achingly gentle, "I don't wanna do this here. I don't wanna have to rush." 

She cocks an eyebrow at him. "And what is it you think we're doing here?" 

"I...welluh...nothin', I mean whatever you wanna do, I don't… I mean, I won't -". He holds his hands up, a safe distance from her body.

The momentary panic in his eyes is enough to send her off into giggles again. "Shit, Brad, I'm kidding… Back to my place then? It's closer."

He nods and moves to pull her sweater back over his head, and if he skims his fingers along her sides while he does it, she's certainly not going to complain. 

Claire leads him by the hand out of the kitchen, pauses to press him into the side of one of their stations and tug his face down to kiss her again, hot and sweet and hard to stop.

"C'mon, I'll make it worth the wait." Brad tugs her gently towards the elevator, where she tucks herself under his arm and smiles up at him. 

"Thank you. You really helped."

"Anything for you, babe. Anytime."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for being gentle with me as this is the first thing I've written that I had the courage to post. <3


End file.
